Work Text:
Nakayama sighed as he pushed open the door, the bell clinking out its honey-sweet melody in the form of a lovely clear chime of bronze against glass. The scent of books, new and well-loved and everything in between, wafted through the cold air like a hazy dream. He has always loved it here, the bookstore near his office. It was one of those rare, magical places where time surrendered its control, slowing down, perhaps even stopping completely. Like a self-contained time capsule, forever frozen in this quiet respite from the torturous monotony of his corporate job. Like a refreshing oasis in a scorching desert, like a flash of glorious heaven in the midst of fiery hell. Like…
God, since when had he started waxing so poetic? The blond shook his head to dismiss these beautiful ramblings, realizing he had been standing in the doorway for nearly half a minute like a confused idiot. Why was he even wording it like this, anyway? He had never seen himself as a romantic, and he was sure that whoever thought he had a silver tongue had never spoken to him before. But somehow, today, these eloquent words flowed in a stream from his subconscious mind, clear and unhalting as a fresh river. How…unlike himself.
But I digress. As much as Nakayama loved the bookstore, as much as he wanted to spend every minute of every day in its mysterious magic, it wasn't what he was here for. No, today, he had come here to see the man behind the counter.
"Close the door on your way in, please~"
Nakayama nodded wordlessly, turning around to gently push the clear glass back into a closed position. With how often he came here, the gesture was already automatic for him. Still, he didn’t want the other to cease with the perfunctory greeting. It was part of their routine, now.
The blond walked up to the counter, resting his forearms on the well-worn wood. His eyes drifted up to meet those of his partner, an uncharacteristically soft smile playing on his lips. Shirafuji. Resident professional bookworm and, somehow, Nakayama's boyfriend. Really, they were polar opposites, the blond mused, watching as the other prepared a small stack of magazines. Nakayama was loud, temperamental, easily angered and excited. Shirafuji was quieter, phlegmatic, rarely expressing intense emotions. Shira was everything Nakayama was not. The other half of the puzzle.
"How was work today, my dear?"
The taller asked lovingly, familiar, pale hands deftly tying twine around the stack with practiced ease. Nakayama groaned at the question, rolling his eyes unconsciously. Ugh, work.
"The usual, I guess...Hino's still a fucking dick, but I guess that’s a fact of this fucked up universe."
Long, slender fingers folded loops to form a ribbon, pulling the twine tight as their owner offered a doting smile at the other's sailor mouth.
"You have such a dirty mouth, Naka-kun..."
Nakayama rolled his eyes at the other’s chiding, but there was no real heat behind the gesture. Not towards Shira. Never towards Shira. He has been told time and time again that he needs to work on his anger issues, but just like how he can't seem to keep himself from anger with everyone else, he can't bring himself to anger with Shirafuji. No matter how annoying the taller man was sometimes, no matter how much he seemed to enjoy nothing more than teasing everyone under the sun…all actions that would have gotten anyone else a harsh berating without a second thought. But when Shirafuji did it, it wasn’t irritating or frustrating anymore. Instead it felt…endearing? Maybe even cute? It was an undeniable fact that Nakayama could feel nothing but love for the other man.
Love, huh? How human an emotion.
"Ne, Naka-kun. Your break ends in twenty minutes, does it not? Would you like to get something to eat? If you would like, I have some granola bars behind the counter…I’ve eaten already, not to worry-"
The other sounded so worried, Nakayama couldn't help but feel guilty for how concerned he made him. Nakayama truly didn't deserve him. He was so kind, so selfless it broke the blond’s heart. What did he ever do to even get a chance with someone so perfect?
"Isn't there a no food and drink rule in here?”
Nakayama asked, genuinely confused.
“I mean, _I_ don't care, but-"
Shirafuji had never been much of a rulebreaker. In school, he’d been a model student, and that sort of good behaviour carried through into his adulthood. But despite that, today, he silently slipped a small packet out from under the counter, cold hands pressing the gift into Nakayama’s warmer ones.
"So...um…how's the shop going?"
Nakayama asked in between bites vaguely awkwardly, unsure what to say. He got nothing but a soft chuckle and a disapproving glance.
"You shouldn't be talking while eating, dear..."
The other man’s voice did not carry even a hint of an attempt to humiliate. They were simply quiet words of faux meaning, words that they both knew were nothing more than indulgent, half-hearted etiquette lessons the blond would never truly take to heart.
"It's been….alright, though, I suppose.”
Shirafuji replied with a small, tired smile, smoothing down a brown paper bag that would soon be used to hold a customer’s order.
“It’s been quite quiet, recently, although I would guess that is to be expected at this time of the year. There's been a few online orders, however, and I have been doing my best to carry them out. I…still don't quite understand the delivery process..."
The purple-haired offered a weak, almost embarrassed smile. Nakayama rolled his eyes at that, knowing full well how much the other hated admitting he could be any short of absolute perfection. Stupid perfectionist, the blond grumbled under his breath, no real malice in the words.
"It's fine, Shira, it takes time to learn stuff."
Nakayama offered, seemingly carelessly. This earned a tiny flick of the corners of the other man’s lips. A tinge of relief from the blond’s disguised kindness.
"...I do hope so. Thank you, Naka-kun."
They sat there near the counter, leaning over to talk about nothing for what felt like simultaneously all the time in the world and no time at all. Their conversation topics were predictable, familiar, routine. The same as that of any other day. Work, Nakayama's annoying stuck-up coworker, the book Shirafuji was currently reading, dinner plans that night...they all melted and froze, reduced and exaggerated, into characters, scenes, for the show they built together from whispered words on either side of the bookshop counter. Truly, Nakayama thought to himself as he listened to Shira ramble about whatever new book he had just picked up and was somehow already in the last chapter of, he was happiest here, with his darling boyfriend, talking about nothing and everything at the same time.
When the silent, incessant vibration of Nakayama's phone inevitably began, a cruel beckoning back to corporate life, he sighed.
"Love you, Shira, I'll pick you up after work."
A nod from the other, accompanied by a loving smile. Leaning over the counter, Nakayama gave his partner a light peck on the cheek, relishing in the way the other immediately blushed slightly at the gesture, pale face dusting with a beautiful baby pink. With that, Nakayama grabbed his laptop bag, and bid goodbye to his own personal heaven to go back to what felt like hell in comparison.
—
Nakayama had six hours left in his shift, but they felt like a blur. A vague, hazy sort of dream, like he was working fully on autopilot, his brain thinking only of Shirafuji. Beautiful, sweet, smart Shira. Nakayama really doesn't know how he managed to get with someone that was pretty much perfect. So pretty. Those beautiful yellow eyes, almost feline in their sharpness. Irises like a sea of liquid gold, shimmering whenever he got excited about something. Absolutely adorable. And so kind, always putting others before himself...Nakayama shook his head to dismiss the thoughts. How embarrassing did he look right now, blushing and giggling to himself like a schoolgirl? He was a grown man!
Still, he couldn't entirely remove the image from his mind, and a part of him didn't quite want to anyway. After all, what was love if not a comfort, one that lingered despite separation? What was love if not a beautiful thing to hold, to own, to keep one afloat despite the hopeless nature of life? With a smile, one devoid of any sort of shame for his love, he straightened his papers and moved his cursor over the icon of the messenger app in the corner of his screen. A light tap, prompting the opening of a new window.
"miss u. c u aft wrk"
As soon as his technical workday ended, Nakayama rushed out immediately. No overtime today, not even by a few precious seconds. He grabbed his belongings, hastily throwing his laptop into his bag before practically sprinting out of the door, dashing to the bookstore next door. He threw the door open, paying the bell no mind, as he all but ran to the counter. Shirafuji had already packed his belongings, stepping out from behind the counter with his tote bag of what was undoubtedly books he had taken for himself. Nakayama's hand found his way to the other's free one, fingers intertwining like they were made to be together. Sometimes, like tonight, when the sky was just starting to darken into a beautiful bluish twilight, it felt like maybe they were. Maybe all the decisions in life, every coin flip of chance, every decision made out of deliberation and convenience, led to this moment.
This, Nakayama thought, as they walked back home, is what I was made for.